Travel Log #2

Our adventure begins!

BUT first a little recap of last night:

Sarah’s car was a right and giving bastard. I have to leave a box of children books (all those Dr. Seuss’s!), my collection of Calvin and Hobbes, and every single bit of my workout equipment. I’m fine with the weights, but damn ALL THOSE BOOKS are surely going to eat away at me while I’m so far away from them. Sarah was great in that she actually found a way for the rest of the books to fit. Bless her heart. I’m going to live with this woman for all my days, huh?

My mother and my aunt showed us how to scrub away battery acid from under Sarah’s hood. Both the tooth brush and plastic cup didn’t make it, but their sacrifices will not go in vain.

Sarah met a lady who gave advice on real estate. The woman took the time to show off some of her paintings. A bird, a painting of a picture of her daughter, and something else that I forget. While I was sent off to fetch more boxes of books, the woman convinced Sarah to give away one of her easels. It wouldn’t fit anyway due to all of the boxes of books. All I could think was this is the same woman who walks all the way from her section of the apartment complex to our side with her Chihuahuas and their willingness to bark nonstop at everyone, carrying a doggy bag only to never use it after they’ve taken a shit within smelling distance from our sitting quarters.

After a few tossed out comic books and not a single box (Tetris with books is a lot like the Endless version of Tetris: forever), we rested.

Or so we thought. Drinking and cooking and gosh – why all the shots? It was definitely memorable. I’m going to miss everyone. I may cry on this trip.  

Snapchat has all the ridiculousness. Our next door neighbor (this nice old lady) even got down and partied with us. We drank two bottles of some mango vodka – what? Why? And all that beer. The chicken and veggies didn’t help. Time for coffee. Coffee coffee coffee!

Now, I’m atop my bed with a headache and a resting beauty beside me. The adventure begins as soon as we nurse our hangovers. We gotta hurry, but if Sarahann keeps fidgeting her little toes against my leg as she sleeps – we just might have to wait a few more hours. I’m in no rush anyway. We’ll get where we gotta get when we gotta get there.

-T.D.

P.S. Sarah made all these peanut butter and sugar cookies the other day. I’ve gotta stop! Why must I be so simultaneously health conscious and a cookie fanatic? She cooks! She bakes! She feels so soft against my skin! She’s a damn hoot, too. Oh, damn. There is no hope for me, is there? 

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